


Devil Child

by WeAllFlyHigh



Series: NA Brothers [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Fluff, Humor, Not Beta Read, Pranks, bit of blood, not chronological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeAllFlyHigh/pseuds/WeAllFlyHigh
Summary: The things that came out of America's mouth never failed to raise England's blood pressure, not when he was a world power and certainly not when he was a young colony.-Stories from New England
Series: NA Brothers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806364
Comments: 30
Kudos: 45





	1. Story One

England feels a firm tug on his apron. A pulse of annoyance beats in his jaw. He bites the side of his mouth to quell the urge to scold the lad. Or more likely to just soften the scolding. He has told America many, many times about proper behavior and slowly, oh so slowly, the colony was learning. But progress was progress and he knows America has learned how to ask for things with words, in English. They were still working on the volume of his requests. 

England knows logically that there was a time, a time before Rome, when he was wild. When he danced with druids and sang in ancient tongues. But he’d forgotten all the details. He’d forgotten if he was anything like how America is.

America tugs again. “Words America. Use your words.” He hears more than sees the lad squirm. England continues with his task. He watches his blade glide through the parsnip. It’s a fine work of craftsmanship. It could probably just as easily go through meat. America does not use any words.

The colony makes a little noise in the back of his throat. England sighs. He doesn’t want him to think that the rules of etiquette only exist when America finds them to be convenient to him. Yet they appear to be at a standstill. It’s a temporary hindrance not an indulgence, England lies to himself. These things take time. 

England wipes off his blade setting it carefully on the counter top. He looks down at America. Clear blue eyes gaze back up at him. “What is it America?”  
America pulls again on the apron. England allows himself to be drawn down to his knees. “Yes?’

America’s lips twitch as if he’s trying to keep a secret inside. “America?” He opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue. Blackness bursts out. Hundreds of baby spiders spill out.

England’s mouth drops open. No sounds emerge. He flings himself back as the tide of spider swarm down the colony’s shirt. His back collides with the counter. The knife falls off and clatters on the floor. 

America starts to laugh. His shoulders shake as he wraps his arms around himself. The spiders disperse like smoke in the air. The only part of England that moves is his mouth. It opens and closes. Slowly he’s able to form words again. 

“What the fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

Story Two

Little feet, only one encased in a shoe, patter down the hall. America had escaped his after lunch lessons today and has no doubt been searching for trouble ever since. He's back before nightfall though, England will have to count that as a victory or at least the first hint of one.

England hears a door open and close from his study. The footsteps quickly approach. He takes a sip of his tea as The Governor continues his speech. He doesn't give a hint that his attention had strayed for even a moment.

The door to his study swings open. It slams into the wall. The governors words stop abruptly. No servant would be so careless. They at least know their manners. The Governor likely can't even see America from where he stands. The colony doesn't pause for a moment. England feels little hands clutch at his arm from beside the chair. He doesn't look down. It would only show America the weaknesses he could exploit.

"America, do not interrupt business discussions." To England's delight the hands release him. "Now Governor, do go on. You were saying something about the moral fiber of our nation. If I remember correctly, you called it a disintegration of society."

It's an argument that England has heard frequently. Every other generation or so humans start believing that their youth are wild and have no respect for the pillars of society. And by the grace of God the nation has survived each of these severe threats. Christ above, they can be so dramatic. He doesn't feel the slightest amount of guilt for ignoring the Governor's rabble in favor of revealing in America's obedience.

When the Governor's moral outrage has flown out and left him flushed and ruddy, Arthur tilts his head toward his colony. America has stood quietly staring up at England with wide blue eyes. His lips are pressed tight together. England's heart softens even if his posture does not. "Now America what did you want to say to me?"

America looked up at him with big blue eyes. "Come on lad, out with it." America parted his lips and red flowed out.

America parts his pale lips and red pours out. The blood was dark and thick. It flows over his chin and sinks into his shirt collar. England springs to his feet. Memories of plagues rise up with him. "God Almighty!" America's eyes go wide. England falls to his knees at America's side. England's hand flutter around America's head. The lad is clearly injured. He prays that he's not bleeding internally but there is so much blood. He needs to examine the lad. He touches his head lightly. His hands are steady as the rest of him trembles. His thumb presses America's chin down opening his mouth further. He prays he's not making it worse. A dark brown something sticks out of the pool of blood. "What on Earth did you do?"

America's gurgles something back. "No don't. Governor, a doctor!" The man still stands uselessly from his spot at the mantel, gaping in shock but still holding his tumbler delicately in between his fingers.

As soon as the stick is removed from where it's impaled in America's palette, the colony begins to return to himself. By the time the wound has been cleaned, sealed, and clotted America is pushing away England's hands. Even as the lad carefully, but joyfully, eats his dinner, a thin potato soup and not the planned beef, England finds himself hovering. Every time America lifts the spoon into his mouth England waits for it to injure the colony. Every time the lad notices, he huffs and pouts as if England is the one who over reacted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone listen to MFM, because this was totally inspired by a hometown.


	3. Story Three

America sounds like a hurricane crashing into the house. There's crashing furniture and stomping footsteps announcing his every move. He goes from the foyer to England's office before he starts screaming. "England!" His voice is high pithed and shrill with fear.

The glass England has been cleaning shatters as it falls. "America," England calls even as he goes to him.

America throws himself into England's legs, wrapping his arms around them. Tears stream down his face. "England! England, I'm dying," he screams. England's heart skips then throbs painfully.

Colonies are so fragile; so hard to start and build up. A single bad crop or an outbreak of illness can kill them off in the beginning. But America's no longer that young and vulnerable and there have been no signs of collapse.

Would America be the first to know? Possibly. England swallows the dry fear clotting his mouth. He can not let America know he's shaken.

"America," he says firmly. "You must tell me what is wrong if I'm to fix it."

The colony sobs. "I'm dying. I'm fallin' apart." He shoves his hand into England's face. England graps the hand and pulls it away so that he can actually see what America has. The object is small and white, except for a small smear of blood. It's a tooth. England laughs in releif.

America's face twists from despair to hopeless outrage. "England, you meanie head," he yells in outrage. He slaps England's calf.

England winces. He's sure a bruise is blooming. The colony raises his fist again. England catches it and presses it firmly to his leg.

"America. America listen to me." He catches America's shaking shoulders and squeezes. "You're fine," he says in his most soothing voice.

It doesn't work. "My bones are falling out!"

"It's a tooth."

America stomps his foot in anger. "My teeth are falling out of my head."

England grasps America's face, forcing the boy to look into England's eyes. "That's supposed to happen," he says calmly.

America rips his face away. He shakes his head rapidly. "No! It isn't."

"Yes, America, it is. All children lose their teeth. You can ask anyone." Not that you should have to, England thinks. His words should be enough.

America stills. He examines England's face, looking for signs of a lie. He bites his lip. England almost smiles at the gesture. The colony isn't there yet but America almost believes him. After some times spent seriously thinking America nods. "Are your teeth fake? Is that why they're all weird?"

"My teeth are not-" there's an audibly click as England contains his outrage. His fingers bite into the flesh of his palm. He tilts his head, squeezes his eyes shut, and prays for patience. He takes a deep breath before looking back at America. "Adult teeth take their place."

America's head tilts to the side. "Oh. That seems stupid. Why do I need new teeth? What was wrong with my old ones?"

"Nothing."

America's little hands tug on England's arm. "Then why-"

"America," England says firmly. " You're missing the point. Now the tooth faerie will come and reward you."

"The tooth fairy?" America looks doubtful.

"Yes, she'll bring you a pence. You can ask the village children about that too." America seems to accept that logic. He releases his hold on England. He nods before toddling off. He rubs away his forgotten tears with a determined expression.

Later that night England cracks America's door open with a pence in his hand. He does not get to set so much as a foot in the room before he is stopped by America's creation. Twine hovers above the floor. It runs from the ceiling to the floor, every corner, and every place in between. Bells of all sizes hang among it all. He does not know where they could have come from. The room is a disaster.

Behind America's alarm system the colony lays on his bed clutching a knife. "Jesus Christ," England whispers. He's raising a terror.

There's an ink splattered note pinned to the twine closest to his head. Two Pence, it reads in America's messy scrawl.

England looks back out over the room. A grim smile curves across his face. He snorts in bitter amusement. The brat has forced his hand. If he walks away America is sure to exclaim over stupid faerie tales and England's lies. If does not comply America will only think of larger schemes.

He closes the door silently and retrieves a piece of parchment from his office. He takes great care to disguise his writing. He writes with his opposite hand and presses so light the ink leaves hardly a trace in places.

He leaves the note on the floor just inside America's door. He places one pence on top. The note reads: One today, the rest tomorrow. Leave the tooth at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite of the four chapters. The next chapter is not finished, but should be within the week.


	4. Story Four

England wasn't in any pain. Oh no, he'd stopped feeling pain hours ago. Everything was numb by now. He tried to flex his hand. His fingers twitched and spasmed. That was going to hurt later. He rose from his chair slowly. He pressed his hands to his back. It audibly cracked several times. He slowly shuffled out of his office.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

England made his way around the house. He stopped at every door, peered in carefully, and continued his search for what was wrong. He found his answer in the kitchen.

It was in a state of utter disarray. Every cupboard was open. Pots and pans were scattered on the countertops. Clumps of green leaves were balanced on the edge of counters before giving way to gravity and slipping to the floor. Dirt was smeared on the floor and out the door.

England followed the tracks with a dull sense of reassignment.

America sat contently on the porch. England looked beyond him to the garden. If the fence had not been intact, he would have assumed that a herd of wild animals had raided the garden. The root vegetables were torn out. The lettuce had huge chunks missing. Only the brussels sprouts were untouched.

A dull crunch commanded England's attention. He looked down at his dirt covered colony. America's teeth were buried deep in a raw potato.

England breathed in deep through his nose. He drew patience and strength into himself. He reached out to the boy. "No don't eat that." America did not flinch or grimace as he swallowed his mouthful. England let out a noise not unlike a moan. He inched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the headache he'd been trying to ignore all morning rising from the depths. "You ate it. How could you eat it?"

America licked the juices from his lips. He did not even flinch. "Well, it's not so different than last night."

England knew he would not like the answer before he even asked the question. He accepted that at least. "Last night? What did you eat last night?"

"Dinner." That finally stirred something other than resignation inside him. America could always be counted on to be a brat.

"Why did you eat the potato?"

"I was hungry." America raised the potato once more to his mouth. England caught his arm and forced it away. America looked at him with utter betrayal.

"Why didn't you come to get me?"

America pouted. "I did. I asked if I could have a snack." England searched his memory. He'd been at his desk all morning. He glanced at the sun in the sky, it was already beginning its daily decent. He'd spent the whole day working. "You said yes," America whined.

England looked down at him. Perhaps he could vaguely recall America coming in and attempting to distract him. He'd shooed the colony off without looking away from his stacks of papers. Poor boy. "Are you still hungry?"

America sprang to his feet. "Yes!"

"Very well. Come along now." He'd have to have the boy wash himself before he sat down to eat. He should be able to get something on the table by then.

England topped him before in the hallway outside the colony. "America," he began again.

"Yeah?" The colony looked up at him. His face was positively filthy but he looked completely unbothered. He even had a slight smile lingering on the corners of his mouth.

"Could you do something for me?"

"Can we eat first?"

England glanced into the kitchen. "Yes, after you wash, most definitely."

America bounced a little in place. "Ok, whatcha need?"

"Please never tell France about this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was loosely based on something from my childhood. Please note, I have never eaten a raw potato.


	5. Story Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had not planned to write another one of these, but a review got stuck in my head so here you go. I'm really done now.

“Come again?”

The governor’s chest swelled with his own self-importance as he repeated his suggestion. “The boy’s behavior is completely unrestrained. On any given day the boy can be found climbing trees and generally acting completely uncivilized. Were it any other child, I would perhaps caution more strict disciplines be employed by their parents but I am completely convinced that the fault can not be with you My Lord Nation.”

Of course, England thought, the an can’t get through one conversation with me without gratuitous amounts of boot licking. England took another sip of his tea. Then with a quiet ting he set the cup and saucer down upon his desk. He folded his hands in his lap. He looked the governor straight in the eye, well aware that mortal men tended to find his own eyes unnerving.

“So, you propose an exorcism?”

The governor cleared his throat. “There is a possibility that the immorality comes not from the boy but those that compose him. An exorcism on him would cleanse the people itself.”

Oh, a fine piece of logic that is. Of course the governor, who had only met England and his colony a mere three years ago had spent every moment of his existence since then focused on the study of nations and had as a result become the world’s finest export on the subject. If anyone were to come up with a solution for the worlds ailments it would be this man. Only he would ever consider this stroke of genius. Why even England himself had never considered that every time he took ill all he needed to do to help his people was to have some bed rest and say a few hail mary’s and every person in the nation would be made well. And that had been so well documented by absolutely no one because that quite simply was not how it worked.

England, being a gentleman and having no tolerance for stupidity, did not say this. Instead he said, “Would it now?”

The governor was already nodding as England continued with the utmost sincerity such a proposition deserved. “I do thank you for bringing your concerns to me sir.”

“Now if you would indulge me for a moment, I would like to share with you a remembrance from my childhood. My brothers and I were children when Ancient Rome still thrived. Do you recall you the history of Hadrian’s Wall?” He did not wait for the man to speak before continuing. “My older brother was quite a…spirited young man and he refused to bow to Rome’s rule. Keep in mind that this was at a time when Rome still followed pagan traditions and likewise my brother followed his own. Why I believe he once tried to sacrifice me in a peat bog. And yet, here we all are, under one untied Christian realm. My realm.”

“America was founded as an extension of my realm and he follows my ways. He will grow into a fine nation under my tutelage. Any wildness in him is merely the energy of a young nation eager to expand. And I will be sure to direct him on how best to focus his efforts.”

With a pleasing smile, England stood. “Now I really must be going. I am going to be late to one of his lessons.” The governor gaped at his dismissal. England pressed his hand to the man’s back. He thoughtfully guided him out, never once bringing attention to how he stumbled across the parlor. That would be a very rude thing to do and England was a gentleman. “Thank you once more for sharing your most heartfelt concerns with me,” he said as soon as he was out the door.

Once the door had been shut, England’s smile disappeared. “And sod off you blustering fool. The nerve, telling me how to raise my colony. Exorcisms.” England scoffed. “I should curse the bloody lunatic.”


End file.
